Made For Death
by UnsightlyDreams
Summary: <html><head></head>Reincarnation. A joke? Well, not for me, unfortunately. I end up in the crossroads of time, watching the Boy-Who-Lived struggle through things I can prevent... and try my hardest to keep myself out of sight. Safety is paramount. It is the privilege of lesser men to merely light the flame. OC</html>
1. Chapter 1

I think the best place to start is the beginning. For all the hype that surrounds the 'meat' of the story, there is no need for any such indication when the beginning doesn't exist, is it? If asked, multiple people will tell you that I am Arianna, student of Hogwarts, a girl who likes to spend her time locked up in the library. If you mention my previous name, or rather, anything of my previous life, you will be met with surprised looks and confused eyes.

My beginning is death.

You may say, and correctly too, that a lot of beginnings are death. But mine overshadows all, because my death was highly odd. Picture this, you're sitting on your bed, writing your thesis statement, and you keel over and die.

In hindsight, it was rather rude of the powers that be to kill me in this way.

A warning would've been nice.

An explanation would be better.

I have no idea about what happened from the moment my body hit the bed, to the time that I next opened my eyes. My eyesight was so blurry that the moment my eyelashes shot open, I began crying. I felt some sort of pain that only comes because of being squeezed down some narrow tube, I felt terror because I was held up in unfamiliar arms, but mostly, I felt _fear_.

I did the only thing I could've done in those circumstances. I cried. I wailed. I screamed the house down.

Dimly, I was aware of people cursing, running around… And then the nurse made a mistake of letting my eyes rest upon my dead mother. The rest, as you say, is history.

I was an odd, deliberate child. While my peers ran around messing up the orphanage, I preferred to sit quietly on my chair, letting my eyes wander over the various helpers and the owner. Bit by bit, I came to the realization that I was in England. London, England, to be precise. The accents gave it away, as did the fancy poster of various London landmarks over the room.

The rest of the children never paid me much attention as I grew up, I must confess. On my part, I was waiting desperately for my legs to lengthen, and for my vocal cords to begin functioning. I was the first amongst all children to speak, to walk, even to write. The teachers at the run-down school we went to were astonished by my vocabulary, even though I tried to tone it down and more so by the fact that I _enjoyed_ studying.

You would too, if you were an adult stuck in a child's body.

I buried myself in books, prompting the Head of the orphanage to pull in whatever contacts she could to send me to a better school. I didn't quite realize it when I answered a quiz sheet under the stern eyes of a government worker, but my performance must have been good enough for them to shift me to a different school.

My _ostracization_ begins from there.

I never fit in with orphanage students anyway, and the new people I met in my school didn't like me. I knew children could be cruel, so I kept my head down while I was thrown insults about my dead parents and my lack of upbringing.

At the age of eight, I was given a favor.

A young woman, with a child my age took note of me as I bumbled around during parent-teacher meetings, assisting the teachers by arranging files. She approached me after the meet and asked me what I liked. My answer was solemn, "I like playing the guitar."

The woman was surprised by my answer, I could see as much. I think she expected me to mention chocolates, or some other trivial thing. "Have you ever played one?"

"No."

"Do you own one?"

"No," I said, even though all I wanted to say was that once I did. A very long time ago. In a different world.

The next day, my music lessons began.

All in all, I was happy with my childhood. Until the fated day.

I was finally eleven, sitting under a pine tree as I played with the strings on my guitar. The moonlight was strong enough to illuminate my path back to the orphanage, and they trusted me enough to come back on my own. The shadows twisted and turned until I realized that one of them was now stretched over me, shrouding me in darkness.

I looked up.

Twinkling blue eyes looked back.

Albus Dumbledore was here.

* * *

><p>I wanted to scream at him. The year had tipped me off, so I knew what time of the books I was in obviously. I was in the very beginning. I had no desire to see it until the end.<p>

His eyes continued to twinkle at me from behind half-moon spectacles as he explained to me what Hogwarts was. When he asked me if I would like to attend, my voice was raspy. "I've never done anything special enough to be able to come to your school."

And it was true. I hadn't. There had been no bursts of accidental magic, no unexplained occurrences that might had tipped me off to the fact that I seem to have been pushed into Harry Potter universe. My hair had never grown back after a truly horrible haircut; I had never set my bullies on fire. So why, I wanted to rage. Why did you take notice of me?

"Have you ever," he countered, peering at me with unfathomable eyes, "felt the need to?"

The answer was that I didn't.

My acceptance must have tinged the air around us, because he stood up fluidly, and then glanced at my guitar. Upon feeling his question, I looked up, "I'm not coming without my guitar."

"My dear," he chuckled, "I didn't expect any less."

He took me shopping the next day. I never asked whose money we were using, which should've been suspicious, but Dumbledore seemed content enough to let me be my asocial self. Maybe the Orphanage authorities had tipped him off. I had no desire to find out.

And yet, even I couldn't stop the bubble of excitement that burned through me when I first saw his wand. My reception had been so heavy that he felt no desire to show-off when he met me the first time, but now, I couldn't stop the widening of my eyes as I saw him tap the bricks of the wall.

Diagon Alley was beautiful.

It was a bustling place, chock-full with people laughing and talking. The same wonder that had settled upon Harry in the books came over me. I couldn't tear my eyes off anything.

A lot of people approached Dumbledore, none of which I recognized. When they looked at me expectantly, I felt like melting into the background. Dumbledore covered up for me all the time. Most of seemed nice enough, but I couldn't hold back my stare of surprise was we ran into Lucius Malfoy, of all people.

Everything about him screamed slimy.

"Dumbledore," he hissed, gliding forward in his too-perfect robes. His hawk-nose looked down at me, and he seemed to recognize what I was in an instant. "I had no idea you were free enough to indulge in picking up the strays."

Dumbledore's gentle smile was as kind as ever. "I always like helping the new students out, Lucius. It helps an old man feel more alive, looking upon the newer generation."

"Ah, yes," Lucius said, raking his eyes over my mousy brown hair and eyes, "I'll leave you to it, then. Draco is waiting for me at Flourish and Blott's."

"We look forward to seeing him at Hogwarts, Lucius. I'm sure he'll do very well."

At the mention of his son, Lucius' smile turned genuine. I could feel the love pouring out of him. It struck me, at that moment, of how desperate he must've been to let him take the Mark. I looked at him then, a proud man, and all I could see was the madman who had no control of his life, or his son's anymore.

I felt pity.

Some of it must've shown in my gaze, for when our eyes met the last time, he seemed slightly surprised. He covered it very well with a sneer, but I wondered if he saw what others said they did. I wonder if he too, thought of calling me a freak. Or as he preferred to say it, a mudblood.

I didn't know back then, but his son would be calling me that before the year was even over.

"Well then, Miss Ashford," Dumbledore turned to me with a smile, "maybe you would like to buy a wand first?"

I was desperate to.

Ollivander's shop was as dusty and dreary as Rowling had described in the books. We had to wait nary a minute before the man himself jumped out of the shadows, smiling his creepy smile at Dumbledore, who then pointed at me.

Well, I thought bitterly when his gaze landed on me with undisguised interest, thanks Gandalf.

Until my wand had chosen me, all I felt was this weird sort of fear – fear that maybe I wasn't really destined for this world and that any moment, Ollivander would turn and say, "Oh Albus, you picked up the wrong girl again. Time to Obliviate her and send her back, I think." Coupled with that was the part of me that wanted to go to Hogwarts, and the other, the one that wanted to stay safe. Hogwarts was dangerous. And if my estimation was correct, this was the year that I'd meet Quirrel.

Voldemort was already running around in the halls. Joy.

The moment that thought crept into my head, the wand in my hand let out a shower of silver sparks. I dropped it in surprise.

"Dragon heartstring and hazel," Ollivander whispered, picking it up and placing it in my shell-shocked hands. "A good wand, seven and a half inches. I expect you to be rather good in Charms and Transfiguration, Miss Ashford. Although," here, he paused, giving me a onceover, "you might also surprise yourself in Divination."

I snorted. "Dabbling in the future? I don't think that's any of qualities."

Ollivander ignored my statement, choosing to take a step back and assess me with his creepy eyes again. "Hazel is a quiet and versatile wood, Miss Ashford. I expect you're going to be a woman of many talents."

"Well," I muttered, shuffling on my feet awkwardly, "I doubt it. But thank you, regardless."

We left the shop after that. One trip to Madam Malkin's for robes, to Eyelops for potion ingredients, and one or two more important places later, I stood outside my Orphanage, attempting to thank Dumbledore for his time.

"Thank you sir."

He waved it away. Typical.

"Here is your ticket, Miss Ashford."

I think I should've thanked him for the money at least, but I couldn't be bothered. My eyes were affixed to the ticket.

Dumbledore smiled at me.

I bit my lip and smiled back.

And that was that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It is an experiment, that is all. I expect questions to pop up regarding Arianna, but mostly, well...**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**Spoiler for the next chapter:**

_"Slytherin," the Hat screamed at last._

_Well, shit."_


	2. Chapter 2

The wall was blank and unassuming.

One thing I always wondered about while reading the books is how nobody even noticed that hundreds of people pushed through a wall and vanished. As I stood there though, I surprised even myself by detecting the faint trace of magic surrounding the area.

"Muggle repelling," I mused out loud, tapping my fingers against my trolley. The Matron of my Orphanage had left me with a dubious expression on her face when I told her I'd make it on my own. Past experience suggested I would – but still, I suppose she loathed leaving an eleven year old child to navigate the London Rail on her own. The faint relief on her face suggested that she didn't quite mind that much, though. She had scores of wailing infants waiting for her back home.

Home. I almost scoffed. It was almost a parody of the atmosphere I had been brought up in.

Still, there was nothing to it. Steeling myself, I grabbed the handle of my trunk forcefully, eyeing the wall with distaste. One step forward, then two – and I was running at the wall.

And ending up on a bustling, cheery platform.

The noise was almost deafening. Hogwarts Express huffed and puffed to my right, and the shouts of children and parents were mind-numbing. Quietly, I navigated my way through people, trying to see if I could recognize familiar faces. Lucius had looked like his counterpart in the movie, as had Dumbledore. Well, maybe not exactly the same, but the resemblance was enough for me to pick up on.

I spied two faces almost immediately.

Twins, red-haired, cheeky smiles – I buried my face in my collar to avoid smiling at them. It was hard not to. But seeing the kind of profile I wanted for myself in Hogwarts – a low, low profile, it wouldn't do to be friends with two of the most amazing characters in the book.

Even if one of them would die soon.

The thought sobered me up, as I pushed my trolley up the train. The disadvantage to being a malnourished, skinny little chit came into play here. I was almost wrestling with my trunk in the narrow entry. When it finally crossed the threshold, I let out a faint sigh of relief and brushed my wayward hair off my forehead, ambling off in search of an empty compartment.

I found one instantly. It was right next to the Prefect's compartment, so I picked it in the hopes that no one else would.

Of course I was hoping wrong. Scarcely had I placed my arse on the seat that the door was pushed open and I was assaulted with frizzy brown hair. The girl was almost swept up into the compartment by her harangued-looking parents. They didn't even notice my small form in the corner.

"Hermione, dear," the mother was saying, looking as if she was continuing a speech prepared beforehand, "remember to take care of yourself, okay? Don't get into unnecessary fights, and -,"

"Mum," Hermione said in an authoritative tone that surprised me – it seemed as if I wasn't the only child who knew how to sound like a responsible adult, "I'll be fine. Now please, go home. The train is about to leave in five minutes."

"Yes, yes, dear, but remember – "

"I know, dad."

Mr. Granger let out a sigh. He carefully patted the girl's hair, kneeling down to her level and smiled. Hermione immediately smiled back, wrapping her arms around her father. The sight made something choke up in my throat, and I looked away.

Hermione tried talking to me after her parents left, she really, really did. But unfortunately for her, not only was I asocial as hell, but I also wanted to stay as far away as possible from the future Golden trio. My monosyllabic answers frustrated her so much, she ended up leaving the compartment to escape the doom and gloom surrounding me.

We all knew who she'd end up talking to anyway. And that, I thought firmly, was a good thing.

** {X}**

My name, as you might have guessed, was the first one to be called.

"Ashford, Arianna."

I swept up the hall, not even bothering to wait for McGonagall's instruction as I picked up the Hat and stuffed it over my head. It helped avoid the stares of hundreds of people looking my way.

"_Well, well, well, what have we here?"_

The insidious, almost sly voice invaded my head. I had stupidly forgotten the Hat could read minds. It was ridiculous, being ousted by a talkative Hat, of all things.

I hadn't thought about which House to be in, to be honest. In my previous life, I was a prime candidate for Ravenclaw. I think every Math Honors student would be.

"_You're far, far away from home, Miss Ashford."_

"Don't I know it," I hissed right back, gripping the edges of the stool a little more tightly. The Hat was making me nervous for all the wrong reasons. "Just hurry up and sort me."

"_Do you know_," it began craftily, "_how much you've changed from the person you once were_?" My fingers tightened. "_You hide behind a cleverly constructed façade of indifference, but how will you conquer your heart, Miss Ashford? Because you might try to reason your way through everything, but the truth is, you care – "_

Oh great, I was going to Hufflepuff.

"_You care enough to believe you can change this world. Oh, how I feel your ambition pouring through you. Such naiveté is unsuitable for the real world_… Sarah."

I almost screamed. Sharp edges of threat and danger wove their way through my heart, sinking their claws into me, pulling me down. The thud of the wretched organ was loud enough to make me feel light-headed, woozy, faint. Sweat gathered above my forehead, slipping past my face, rolling into my shirt.

"Don't. You. Dare." I whispered, able to feel every splinter of the wooden stool I sat upon, awaiting judgment. Unbidden, to my mind's eye, came the image of scales, measuring me. Always measuring me.

"_Do you know_," the Hat said icily, and it struck me then that it wasn't treating me like any eleven-year old – it was treating me like a nineteen year old _woman_, _"What a dangerous game you play?"_

"Sort me," I ordered right back, "before I set you on fire."

"_A foolish endeavor, but I suppose one as crafty and determined as you would find a way -,"_

I was still reeling from the whiplash. "I think," I said at last, "you should make up your mind. I can't be crafty and naïve at the same time."

"_And yet you are. Isn't that,"_ I could feel the Hat settle lower on my hand, engulfing my nose even. The sharp urge to breathe assaulted me, and my mouth shot open, making me take a loud gasp as if I were drowning, "_Wonderful_?"

"Slytherin!" The Hat shouted at last.

Well, shit.

I stumbled off the stool, almost throwing the Hat in the haste to get it away from me. My breaths were shallow and forced, and I must've looked a right sight –

Which is why the entire population was staring at me with wide eyes, I guess.

I think, I thought wryly, I just stole some of Harry Potter's thunder,

** {X}**

I didn't really, though. Harry was still greeted with faint whispers and awe, and the Hat mercifully took as long as it had taken with me to decide where to put the Boy-Wonder. When the final result was announced, I clapped politely, even though no one else at my table did.

No surprise there.

From across the table, Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes at me. In the sharp light, his cheekbones looked too well-defined and his eyes were tempered grey. He'd been staring at me the whole time. It was highly awkward.

When I clapped, he finally deigned to open his mouth though. His voice, when it reached, was cultured and carefully cultivated. "Do I," he began, toying with the rim of his goblet, "know you?"

"I don't think so."

"Pansy, have you met" he called to the girl sitting a few seats away, his eyes flickering to me, "Miss Ashford?"

I beat her to replying. "I don't think so," I said just as calmly as before, piling my plate with some treacle tart. My spoon entered the soft jelly soundlessly as Draco continued to stare at me. "I am Muggleborn."

The effect was instantaneous. Pansy dropped her fork in surprise, and even Draco showcased some emotion by narrowing his eyes. From their vantage point next to him, Crabbe and Goyle blinked at me stupidly. I'd venture to say I struck a nerve.

Biting my lip to control the smile that threatened to blossom over my face, I looked up innocently, tilting my head to the side in confusion. "Is that," I asked flatly, leveling Draco's gaze with my own, "a problem?"

"A Mudblood in Slytherin," Draco drawled, leaning back against the seat. He was no longer even addressing me. "Well, fancy that. Bet old Slytherin must be turning in his grave, eh?"

Pansy was more vocal about her displeasure. "How dare they let scum like this into our House?" she shrieked, brandishing her fork in the air. Daphne Greengrass raised her nose in the air haughtily before flipping her hair to the side to avoid even looking at me.

"My father," Draco began loudly, looking every inch the smug bastard Harry had described him to be –

"Let me guess," I interjected sweetly, rising from the table where I wasn't wanted. "He'll hear of this?"

The shock and anger in his eyes was almost worth the fact that I had to find an empty corner of the table to sit in.

** {X}**

I wasn't welcome in the Slytherin dormitory either. Idly, I fingered the limp strands of my hair as I regarded the way beds seem to have been moved to steer clear of the rightmost corner, where a single bed sat dejectedly empty. My trunk had been thrown their haphazardly. I guessed it had taken a lot of effort for these girls to shift it away.

Stepping past the hostile glares and indignant sniffs, I made my way to my bed, flopping upon it gracelessly. The air seemed brittle; it seemed to be waiting for the slightest crack. I took out my wand instead of pushing it, surveying it with light brown eyes. It was one of the only things I had that was brand new. I intended to keep it that way.

The books we had bought, coupled with the times I had tried to do magic had taught me a few things. Every wizard or witch had a magical core. And despite popular belief, that core could be depleted. My silver hangings winked at me as I rolled over my stomach and regarded my wand excitably.

I couldn't wait to learn some magic.

** {X}**

My lessons were satisfying.

As predicted by Ollivander, I was good at Transfiguration and Charms. I enjoyed learning a lot, and it helped that both the teachers we had for these subjects were phenomenal in their own way. Apart from Hermione, I excelled in these classes, reveling in the way eyes swiveled to me when I answered questions correctly.

Of course, I made up for these in my abysmal performance in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from physically and mentally clamming up every time I saw Quirrel. He's there, I'd think with terror, right there. I sat near the entrance each time, ready to run out at the smallest notice of danger. Cowardice became my middle name.

Potions, too, halted all my brain activity. I couldn't just sit there, look at Snape and not feel anything. I'm sure all my classmates, and Snape himself, thought I had a major crush on him. I couldn't stop staring – hawk-nosed, greasy-haired, black eyes. He was so… Snape.

My Housemates treated me with derision coupled with disgust. I was the charity-case after all, in my borrowed robes, torn textbooks and lack of clothes. To the Slytherin's, I was something to be unacknowledged. It's like they thought I was a weed that would die with the lack of sunlight. When that didn't work, and I continued to wake up every morning, they started hexing me in the hallways. It didn't matter if they were first-year or not anymore – the entire House abhorred my existence.

I started spending more and more time away from the Common Room, holing myself up in the Library as I tracked the Golden Trio's progress. When the troll came along, I rushed through the hallways, stopping only when I was in my bed, praying that my existence hadn't altered anything. I sang my relief upon seeing the three together the next morning throughout the day, practicing tunes on my guitar in the empty classrooms.

When the insults started piling up, hexes increased and my homework started getting stolen. I stayed up nights redoing the same thing over and over because someone had thrown ink on it, or fed it to their pets. I didn't mind the treatment – students were known to be cruel – but when I woke up on Christmas, a special day as such, with no gifts near my bed, and the shine of dust at the edges of my feet, I couldn't stop the tears when they came.

At the Christmas Feast, even McGonagall noticed something was wrong. She called me to her office the next day, and upon noticing my disheveled hair and puffy eyes, offered me a biscuit.

I took it.

"Miss Ashford," she sighed, steeping her fingers together. With a start, I noticed that her hair was down. "I don't quite know what to say to you. All the Professors, including myself, have noticed the drop in your schoolwork –,"

That just brought more tears to my eyes. I valued my schoolwork highly.

"Now, now, don't cry," she said uncomfortably, "here, have another biscuit."

When I ate my second biscuit, and she was satisfied I wasn't going to burst into tears again, she nodded at me. "I want you to make a friend, Miss Ashford. This loneliness doesn't become a clever young girl like you. Have some fun. Go out."

"F-friend?" I hiccupped in surprise, taking my third biscuit. "But nobody likes me, Professor. I'm the second insufferable know-it-all, even though I don't even say anything –,"

"That's exactly why you need to make a friend, Miss Ashford. You can't be alone _forever_!"

And she was right. Man is a social animal after all. I sighed, dropping my face into my hands. It would be hard to find a friend unconnected with all of this. But at least I had a mission now.

The year didn't seem like it was going to end soon anyway.

** {X}**

I was sleeping in the Common Room when the students started coming back from the Christmas Break. In hindsight, it was a foolish decision. I had known they would be back. Then why was I inviting trouble upon myself like this?

The sound of girlish giggles and people laughing woke me up. In the dim light (the Slytherin Common Room was always dark), I could barely make out what was written across my robes, but a few seconds later, after my eyes had adjusted to the light, I saw the hastily scrawled, 'Mudblood'.

I looked up.

Pansy giggled even more, hanging off Draco Malfoy's arms. Blaise Zabini, too, look amused. In fact, the only person I'd say who didn't look like he enjoyed my suffering was Malfoy. His grey eyes glinted in the light as we locked gazes. Something shifted behind them, something unfathomable, and when I got up quietly, I noticed it was contempt.

I suppose I deserved it. I was smarter than anyone else in the room, and I still took their shit, didn't I?

Something snapped in me then and I reverted to the mentality of an eleven year old. "Who," I asked quietly, taking a step forward "did this?"

Fury rose through me. I had only two pairs of robes anyway – and this was beyond cruel to do to someone who didn't have the privileges the lot before me did. I wanted to teach them a lesson, drill something into their smug skulls, and yank their hair until they understood…

"I did!" Daphne yelled shrilly, still laughing like the pig she was. I barely registered that I had taken out my wand and was now pointing it at her face.

There was sudden silence in the Common Room.

"Never," I said just as quietly as before, "do that again."

And with that, I turned on my feet and walked away. The hush behind me felt satisfying, somehow.

** {X}**

I was sitting in the library, pondering over McGonagall's newest essay when it happened. I was _approached_.

"Hey, you're that girl right," a tentative voice said to my right, making me look over, "Arianna Ashford?"

A young girl, around my age stood there, clutching a pile of books large enough to rival my own. Another similarly timid one stood next to her, eyes wide as she looked at the copy of _Transfiguration: The Art that is Science _that I was referencing for my studies. They both had vivid black hair, the kind that gleams in the light.

"Yeah," I said, gesturing at the empty seats next to me, "Wanna sit?"

They dropped into the seats. "I'm Yvonna Bampton," the one that had approached me first said, spreading her books over the table, "And this here is Hazel Stickney."

"Arianna Ashford," I said with a smile, "but you knew that already."

Yvonne grinned. "How could we not? You're infamous enough as it is."

I think this was the first time I had laughed outside of class. Somehow, it felt freeing. "Really? And how," I asked, leaning forward a bit to catch their eyes, "did that happen?"

Hazel smiled tightly. "The first Muggleborn in Slytherin. Merlin Arianna, how do you survive that House?"

"It's alright," I said lightly, waving it away. "They don't bother me that much. Say, have you figured out why we need to twirl our wand upside down to make this spell work? None of these books seem to be giving me the right answer."

"That's because you're looking at the wrong ones," the Ravenclaw said with a smirk.

Our friendship was formed on the rocky stones of Transfiguration. If you ask me, it could've been a lot worse.

**{X}**

Draco knew there was a point to this horrible class. He really, really knew there was. Unfortunately, that part was kind of hard to remember when their teacher stammered his way through some texts and made the entire room smell like Garlic. It was ridiculous.

Bored, he ran his eyes over the class, trying to find someone to trouble. After all, the last time he'd played a prank, it had unfortunately helped the boy who wouldn't die instead of having him expelled from Hogwarts. The whole thought left a sour taste in his mouth. His father had been quite vocal in his displeasure too.

His eyes fells upon the Mudblood. She sat at the edge of class, a far difference from the way she hogged the first benches during Transfiguration and Charms, looking as if all she wanted to do was to throw herself out of the room at the slightest notice. Intriguing. Her eyes were wide as she followed the back of Quirrel's head. Draco stared at the turban thoughtfully too, for a few seconds, before concluding that she was a little bit mental.

Maybe all those tripping jinxes had reached her brain?

He stood up slowly at the end of class, fixing his eyes on her unsuspecting back as they made their way to the dungeons for Potions. He didn't want to hex her, but sometimes, with the way she moved, she left him no option. She left them no option.

She was too content. Barely five feet tall, and yet, she moved with certain deliberation that even his mother couldn't achieve. She talked as if she found pleasure in that single movement, hell, she studied as if she found pleasure in it. Her eyes were always open and smiling; it was a pathetic display.

His feet increased speed of their own accord. "Mudblood," he said at last, falling into step beside her.

He could see the surprise in her eyes. "Malfoy." When he made no move to say anything more, she fumbled with the clasp of her tattered bag. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have a question."

She hummed something inconsequential, smiling at some random Ravenclaw who walked past them. To his surprise, the Ravenclaw smiled back. He didn't know the Mudblood had friends.

"How are you so content?"

Her eyes flickered to him, something shining in the depths of her gaze. It was disgusting – she should've been a Hufflepuff. What was the ruddy Hat thinking?

"Content?" She seemed taken aback. Good. "I – I think… I have been given everything I need. That's cause to be happy."

From behind them, he could hear the titters of the other Slytherins. Pansy's astonished voice was what weighed most heavily on his mind. Draco might only be eleven – but he had been taught all about keeping up appearances. It was time to cut this conversation short.

"What about the things you want?"

"Tell me, Malfoy," she said, as she whirled around to meet his eyes, pressing one hand on his chest to stop him from walking, "What do you want?"

This time, he was the one taken aback. That wasn't the question I asked, he wanted to yell at her, and yet, she had twisted it on him. Some vaguely cunning glowed in her eyes, and he realized with no small amount of shock that she had manipulated the conversation – manipulated _him_. He could feel the stares of people behind them, and he could feel the way his standing in society would fall if he didn't act fast.

He whipped his wand out. "Don't you dare," he hissed at her, stepping back so that her small hand no longer rested on his chest, "touch me again."

Something bright shot out of his wand and she let out a half-gasp as she stumbled forward, suddenly immobilized.

He was surprised to notice that her eyes were merely resigned.

** {X}**

I ended up being late to Potions. Expected, I thought drily, shouldering my bag with more force than necessary. This is what happens when you treat smug bastards like they're normal humans instead of patronizing, self-superior losers. It wasn't the fact that he had hexed me. I could live with that. The Slytherins did it all the time. It was the fact that I had let my guard down for a moment, because all I could see were ashen eyes, tears, and the ripping open of a shirt.

Something, I reminded myself furiously as I rushed to class, that wouldn't happen until later. Much, much later.

"Miss Ashford, looks like you finally decided to join us," Snape drawled as I stumbled into class. I gave him an apologetic smile. He ignored it. "Now, who knows what we will be doing today?"

I threw my bag on the empty seat at the end of the class, whipping my hair out of my eyes as Neville raised his hand.

It was as thought the entire class took a collective gasp. Though for Malfoy, it was more like a choked fit of laughter. His eyes followed Neville's move gleefully, waiting for him to slip up.

Git.

"Um – last time you said – Draught of Living Peace," Neville stammered, turning more and more red by the second. Snape's eyes were full of derision.

"Five points from Gryffindor for wasting my time. You don't brew the Draught of Living Peace till fifth year, boy," he snapped at Neville, turning to face the board. Neville's eyes lowered to the floor, ashamed, and in that split second, I caught his gaze and gave him a pitying smile.

He returned it.

**{X}**

There is a theory that if a butterfly flaps its wings in one world, it ends up creating a storm in the other. Another one states that a slightest ripple in a pond creates more ripples. And yet, as I stood outside the Hall, staring at the stones rubies, I was quite proud to say that things were going as they should despite, or maybe I should say, in spite of my unexplained presence.

Slytherin was now leading by a large margin of points. There was some satisfaction in that feeling.

Harry's disgrace was all over the school, and though I felt bad for the way all the Gryffindor's hated him now, I couldn't help the sheer happiness that coursed through me.

Although Draco's sickeningly smug smile was ruining it all for me rather fast.

The loud bevy of noises was rather exasperating, or at least enough for me to turn around and search for the source of the commotion. Harry stood in the center, flanked by Ron and Hermione while on the other end, Malfoy smirked, Stupid 1 and 2 with him.

"Alright there, Potter?" he snarled nastily, "Suppose I'll see you at detention tonight. You never know, you might get lucky enough to find some money there, Weasley, we all know how your parents can't afford – "

Ron dived forward, looking for all in the world like all he wanted to do was to break Malfoy's nose, Hermione drew her wand out, and dimly, I registered someone was screaming until I realized it was me.

"Stop! Stop it, all of you!" I strode forward, pushing past Hermione and Harry to glare at Draco. "Can't you find someone else to bother with your nonsense, Malfoy? It's barely one. Do you only think about ways to ruin someone's life all day?"

"I sleep sometimes," he said haughtily in response, brushing past Ron to stand in front me, "it's more than what I can say for you, Mudblood. Have you seen the circles under your eyes?"

I reeled back. It was one thing to insult me so callously in the Common Room, but another to do it openly in the Hallway. Some of it must have shown on my face, because Harry stepped to my defense. "Bugger off, Malfoy. Can't you see you're not wanted here?"

"Oh, but I _want_ to be here," he sneered at me, "And whatever I want, I get. That's more than I can say for some of the riff-raff here. Tell me, Mudblood, how did you scrounge up enough money for these robes?" He stepped forward, catching the edges of my frayed sleeve to run it through his fingers. "Did you maybe," he asked, leaning forward, grey eyes mercurial and steeled. There was something cruel about the set of his mouth, and it struck me just how young he was, "Grant a favor here and there?"

There are quite a few things I can tolerate. Something like this wasn't on the list.

I raised my hand without even being aware of doing so. The loud slap will forever echo in my memory – I think that was the day when my enmity with Draco Malfoy openly and properly began. Before that, his jabs at me made no difference. It all changed that day.

His eyes darkened. "My father –,"

"Make sure he'll hear of this for me, will you?" I snapped, taking a step back. "I'd like to see what he'll do."

As my steps carried me out of the hall and the Trio's astonished faces, I could hear the parting jab. "You'll regret this, Mudblood!"

Oh, silly Malfoy, I already regretted it. Now the Trio had a reason to know my name. The mere thought made me shudder in dread.

**{X}**

I stood up, cheering along with the rest of the Houses as the hangings turned from silver to golden, and the Lion replaced that repulsive Snake. From their spots on the Ravenclaw table, Yvonne and Hazel bounded over to me, and we indulged in the most girlish squeals and screams of happiness. Slytherin had lost. It was brilliant.

"I can't believe it," Yvonne yelled over the noise, "I can't. I just can't."

"I can!" I shrieked right back, hugging her. Seriously, this was too much happiness for a simple House rivalry. "We deserved this!"

"Stop that pathetic display, Mudblood," Malfoy drawled from behind me. It seemed he was finally over the shock. The green edges of his face hadn't quite gone away though. "We have a reputation to keep."

"Pfft," I snorted right back, "Your reputation, as you so eloquently put it, went down the moment you were sorted into the House."

I'm sad to admit that yes, I went down to his level occasionally.

Malfoy glowered dangerously at me while Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. It was testament to how used to I was to being hexed that I turned my back to them without a single thought. Thankfully, they wouldn't be learning Unforgivable curses till much later. I could deal with some stupid trip-jinxes.

And then the year was over. I could barely believe it. Our trunks were packed, and in a flurry of moments, I stood at the station, waving my (only) two friends' goodbye, promising to write. I was surprised to notice I was actually smiling. Hogwarts was indeed a magical place. As I pushed out of the station, I was surprised to notice Lucius Malfoy standing outside, staring at me. Next to him, Draco stood smugly, hands in his pockets. He had grown taller over the year, I noticed absently, as Lucius surged forward.

"Miss Ashford," Lucius began, "my son has been telling me the most riveting stories about you."

"Is that so?" I said lightly, tightening my grip on the trunk. We were alone here, and I wouldn't put it past Lucius to actually hex me. It seemed that Draco had the same thought, for his smile faded slightly as his eyes flipped back and forth between me and his father. "Do tell."

"He says that you," here, the snake leaned forward, blonde hair blowing softly in the wind, "– slapped him."

"I did."

"And why, pray, did you do such a stupid thing?"

"Because," I said, drawing myself up to my full height, which, admittedly, wasn't much, "– your son called me a Mudblood."

"You are one, are you not, Miss Ashford?"

I had expected vile things from the man. I truly, truly did. However, even I didn't think he would stoop to the level of insulting an eleven year old. I was so surprised; I barely even noticed that he was threatening me with 'dire' consequences if I crossed his son again.

I ended up laughing at his face. The image was so surreal. He was threatening a lowly orphan, out of all people. "Mr. Malfoy," I sniggered, grabbing my trolley to keep myself from toppling down, "do you enjoy threatening every person your son comes across into submission, or am I just that special?"

He recoiled furiously. Draco, from next to him, seemed astonished that anyone would ever speak to his father that way. "You better watch your words, Miss Ashford, because death isn't uncommon in the wizarding world."

"You better watch yours, Mr. Malfoy. After all, would you really like the papers knowing you bully your way even through little girls? I'm sure Rita Skeeter," I took a step forward, locking eyes with him, " – would love to hear of this lovely development."

Lucius looked at me for a very long time. Finally, he snapped, "C'mon Draco. We have better things to do than to associate with such riff-raff."

Victory indeed tasted sweet.

**{X}**

**A /N: C'mon guys. One review? At least one? I'd like to know if you like it, at least. **

**Followers, thank you.**

**So here goes Arianna's first year. One chapter more, before we move on to her second. I'm going to basically skip through with small chapters till her fourth. Because that's when she finally decides to change something, and we can all see how that works out.**

**Also, since this story is predominantly a romance (*winkwink*), we need to have them a little grown up, yeah?**


	3. Chapter 3

I almost skipped second year of Hogwarts. Or at least, I wanted to. If it wasn't for the fact that it would look highly suspicious, I would probably have to answer Dumbledore himself and that Yvonne and Hazel would kill me, I would have for sure. I didn't fancy going to a place where the pipes would soon be crawling with a giant snake that could kill people by looking at them.

By the time the fateful day to go to King's Cross had arrived, the Matron of the Orphanage basically threw me out, placating the sting with a small, tired smile and a quiet hair-ruffle. If I was a normal kid, I would've been offended. Luckily for her, I wasn't, and I didn't quite care about having authority figures in my life who loved me.

I ended up sitting with Yvonne and Hazel in a compartment at the end of the train, bouncing my knees awkwardly when they bought things from the trolley lady. I didn't mind not having a lot of money, but I could foresee it being a problem in the future. I barely had enough to buy four chocolate frogs. How would I survive in Hogsmeade?

"What about you, my dear?" The trolley lady asked, smiling kindly. Upon seeing my red face, she coughed. "Or not. It's fine."

As she moved along to the next compartment, I lowered my head, quite unable to meet my friends' eyes. I felt embarrassed, almost, even though I knew I had nothing to be embarrassed about,

"Here, Arianna," Hazel muttered, pushing a Chocolate Frog forward. "Go on, have one."

"Or you can try some of these," Yvonne offered, pushing the bag of beans forward. "Have you ever even had one?"

I shook my head; carefully placing the Frog Hazel had pushed into my hands on the table. "It's alright, I'm not hungry."

"Bollocks."

"What about a Licorice Wand?"

"Yvonne –,"

"We aren't taking no for an answer, Arianna. We aren't stupid, you know. You come back looking like you haven't had a full meal in days, your robes are old and fraying, and we know you're an orphan, yeah?"

"And we don't care," Hazel added firmly, placing a stack of chocolates in front of me. "You shouldn't be embarrassed about not having money, at least not in front of us. We're your friends, Ari."

The tears that blossomed in my eyes were sudden, unexpected. My throat felt hot, choked even, as I looked at the two girls in front of me. The lack of people in my life wasn't an acute discomfort, but having them both made me realize just how lonely I was. I had just been told off by a bunch of young girls almost five years younger than me, and the truth was, they were right. I was being stupid.

They quietly averted their eyes as I furiously wiped my eyes on the edges of my robe. It was if they recognized I was even more embarrassed of my tears, and retreated to give me a moment of privacy. They were both such perfect girls.

My smile, when I picked up the Chocolate Frog, was watery.

**{X}**

"Potter's not here," Malfoy announced loudly at the table, narrowing his eyes. Eyes swiveled over to the Gryffindor table, all eyes, apart from mine. There was a brief moment of observation, before everyone turned around to look at Malfoy expectantly. He didn't disappoint. "Father said he might drop out though," he continued, smirking, "Boy-Wonder could hardly keep up the perfect image of the savior in Hogwarts, could he?"

There was a low smatter of laughter, and giggling. The latter was mostly because there were a number of girls sizing up Malfoy, as if impressed by what they saw. Aesthetically, I could see why. He had grown quite a bit. His shoulders were broader; his voice was lower and more gravelly. The grey in his eyes was almost striking. I smiled into my cup. He was such a pretty boy.

"Maybe he finally did us all a favor and croaked," Pansy offered, taking a delicate sip from her goblet. Her eyes were fixated on the boy beside her.

"The boy, who finally died," Zabini grinned. "It has a nice ring to it."

'Or maybe he's just running late," Daphne mused into her plate, swirling the food around. I shared her sentiment. My own plate looked mighty unappealing to me. As if she sensed my gaze, she snapped, "What're you looking at, Mudblood? Waiting for Potter, is it?"

"That's none of your business, Greengrass," I shot back, hurriedly snapping my gaze away from the door. The Sorting had begun, and I couldn't quite remember if Harry had arrived after, or before. There was a knot of worry in my stomach.

"Ashford's just besotted with the food, Daphne," Pansy snickered, eyes wicked, "She's never seen so much in one place before, obviously."

"Maybe I am. Not everyone grows up with a silver spoon shoved in their fat mouths, Parkinson."

Pansy seemed startled I was actually fighting back. Then she recovered. "You're such an embarrassment to our House, Ashford. Spreading your taint everywhere, you're like a disease!"

I scoffed, pointedly looking away. As much as I would like getting into a brawl with Pansy in the Hall, it simply wouldn't do. I had a low profile to keep, and a savior to search for. One eye on the door, I grabbed the juice, depositing a healthy amount into my goblet. The taste was absolute bliss, and I smiled, satisfied.

The doors banged open, and a furious looking Filch shuffled in, followed by Harry and Ron. I eased into my chair as people began whispering. The both looked tired, but victorious. I suppose getting away from a bloodthirsty tree did count as some sort of win.

"_Saint Potter_," Malfoy sneered venomously, voice rich with disgust. "Needs to have attention on him all the time, doesn't he? Well, I'll show him."

"What're you talking about, Draco?" Pansy simpered, leaning forward so she was almost falling into his lap.

"Quidditch, of course. I'm applying for Seeker. Father already bought me new robes and a broom."

My soft snort came out louder than I had intended, and I paused, feeling the hostile glares directed my way. "By all means Malfoy, don't stop boasting on my account," I said, idly twirling a piece of chicken on my fork, "Tell me, has daddy bought brooms for the whole team yet? I'm assuming you're going to buy your way in, of course. We all know you're a talentless git."

Two spots of red appeared on Malfoy's cheeks as his eyes darkened furiously, and I bit my lip in an effort to not smile. The comment had hit home, just like I had intended. The hostility level on the table was raised a few more notches.

"You're so full of it, aren't you, Mudblood?" Pansy spat immediately, coming to her precious Malfoy's defense. "Tell me, what's it like, having dead parents, you little…_slag_!"

The statement only made me grin lightly, as I got up from the table. "You'll have to do better than that to hurt me, Parkinson. Your childish statements aren't going to do anything."

"Then maybe mine will," Draco stated, gritting his teeth as he stood up. The air crackled around us in animosity. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. "Does anyone know where exactly you live, Mudblood? Tell me, do your lovely friends know how your parents died? Or what they were?" The color drained from my face as I stared at him. _How did he know?_ What…

"Do they know that your father was a rapist, and that your mother wasn't even an honest woman when you were born?"

"Have you told anyone that when you were born, she cried into her pillow and would rather die than look at you?"

"Have you gone–,"

"Shut up."

"To meet your father in that horrid Muggle prison where –,"

"Shut up."

"It's said he rapes people still –,"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

There was a loud bang, and people started screaming. From the teacher's table, McGonagall and Snape rushed over, robes flapping and frowning. The wand in my hand shook as I heaved heavily, vomiting on the floor. I was barely even aware of being asked questions, lifted, dragged to the infirmary. For the second time that day, I could feel wetness on my cheeks as I sobbed loudly, raking my fingers through my hair. Even the sight of Malfoy groaning on the hospital bed with boils on his face couldn't cheer me up.

"Miss Ashford."

How did he know? How did he know what they were? I myself didn't until I outright asked the Matron after coming back from Hogwarts. Even then, she hadn't told me that my own mother had chosen to die than look at me. _But she's not my mother,_ a voice whispered insidiously in my head.

"Miss Ashford."

My mother was a woman with blonde hair, an easygoing smile, and an amazing heart. She loved me so much she'd rather sit at home and watch me grow up than go out and work. She spent the whole night awake if I had so much as a fever. She wasn't this nameless, faceless thing who had the misfortune of being my entry into this world.

"_Miss Ashford_!" The voice, loud and pointed, jarred me from my own thoughts. I looked up slowly, the tears in my eyes blurring the image of Snape looking down at me disapprovingly. "What were you thinking, cursing Mr. Malfoy in the Hall like that?"

"I –,"

"I expect better from you, Miss Ashford. As your Head of House, I'm deducting fifteen points from Slytherin for an unprovoked attack –,"

"It wasn't unprovoked!" I hissed furiously.

"And detention for a week with me in the storeroom –,"

"And you're just going to let Malfoy go? Just like that?" I demanded hysterically, getting up from the bed. I was horrified to find that my feet were shaking.

"Regardless, nothing excuses your behavior…"

"You're going to do this," I fumed, crossing my arms, "You're actually going to do this. You're going to play favorites again, aren't you? Why? Is it because he's your godson, is that it? Does that excuse every villainy he commits in your eyes?"

"Miss Ashford –,"

"You disgust me!" I spat as his eyes widened. "You're nothing but a slimy excuse for a human being, Professor Snape. And to think I felt bad… You deserve nothing!"

"MISS ASHFORD!" He thundered, eyes so dark and unforgiving that I actually took a step back. "Do not presume to pass judgment on me for a mistake you have made! Your punishment –,"

"He told everyone my father was a rapist!" I screamed right back, "He sat there, and told them how my mother begged to die after birthing me! He said my father still rapes people in prison! He… he…" I stumbled back into the bed, feeling those wretched tears arise in my eyes once more. There was a soft gasp at the other side of my bed, and I turned to see McGonagall and Pomfrey looking at me with wide, pitying eyes. My fingers curled. I didn't want their pity.

"They weren't my parents."

"Miss Ashford… _Arianna_," Pomfrey said softly, laying her hand on my arm…

"I said they weren't my parents, bloody hell! Stop looking at me like that!"

Pomfrey's hand dropped as if burned. I couldn't quite bring myself to care, so I jumped off the bed, grabbing my wand from the table. Nobody stopped me from leaving the infirmary, which was a good thing, because a few choice curses were simmering at the edges of my tongue, waiting to be spewed forth. Faintly, I could hear Snape saying something in hushed tones to a still-moaning Malfoy, but I tried not to listen.

The very thought of Malfoy disgusted me to my core.

As the dungeon came into view, and the steps became gloomier and darker and I paused, staring straight ahead contemplatively. Then I ran up the stairs to an empty corridor, and circled it, praying '_I need somewhere to sleep.'_

The doorknob, when it appeared, felt like solace and wretchedness combined into one.

**{X}**

People were whispering whenever they saw me. The sight of a bunch of robes, huddled together, murmuring made a certain sick feeling rise to the bottom of my stomach. I rushed through my classes, not even bothering to sit next to either Yvonne or Hazel. I sat at the entrance, ready to run out at a moment's notice. I even skipped lunch, opting to go to the kitchens and beg for food instead.

At seven, I stood outside Snape's door and knocked.

"Come in."

I wasn't the only one there. Draco Malfoy looked up. His eyes were shining with something indefinable. I paused at the doorway. "What's he doing here?"

"Mr. Malfoy is here for his detention, much like you, Miss Ashford," Snape informed me coolly, face impassive as usual. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he frowned when I made no move to enter. "Do come in, and close the door behind you."

"I don't want," I said in response, my grip on the door tightening, "To serve detention with him."

Malfoy's face swiveled as he turned around. "It's no picnic for me either, Ashford."

"Professor, _please_," I stated, lowering my voice to something suitable for requesting, begging, even. I don't know how good my begging voice and kicked-dog face was, but I'm sure something vaguely sympathetic flashed through Snape's eyes. Maybe. Or, I amended wryly, when he merely shook his head at me, maybe not.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. It seemed resigning myself to my fate was the only option left. "What do you want me to do?"

"You and Mr. Malfoy," Snape corrected drily, flipping through some papers on his desk, "Are to clean the storeroom. There is no need for talking." He stopped, face curling as if he remembered something unpleasant. "And if I find a single thing out of place…"

The threat was left hanging in the air.

Malfoy nodded stiffly, skirting around me to enter the storeroom. After a brief pause, I followed him, keeping my head down. It was as Snape said. We worked in silence, having an unspoken agreement to settle on two ends of the room. The weird things in the transparent glasses had me transfixed for quite some time. It reminded me of a Chemistry lab.

One jar had something of the consistency of seaweed floating through it, and when I turned it out, the label read: "Unicorn spleen."

I almost dropped it in surprise.

There was a stack of bezoars, and I ended up rifling through it and smiling at the memory. Snape even had a jar of dragon blood. It was a rather well-stocked inventory.

"Ashford."

I looked up, to see that Malfoy had pushed a small box my way. He didn't meet my eyes. "The gillyweed is supposed to be kept there."

Quietly, I picked it up and corrected the error.

After that, there was no need for any more words between us.

**{X}**

"Aren't you coming for dinner?"

The question was said softly enough to be missed, and the questioner's face was subdued. I stilled. "No."

"Why not?"

"Why the hell do you think not, Malfoy?" I snapped suddenly, whirling around to face him. "You think it'll be easy for me to go back after the lovely things you let slip?"

"I didn't want to say those things, alright?" He shouted right back, crossing his arms. His pale face twisted. "You left me with no choice!"

"Oh, is that right?" I scoffed, pressing one hand to my eyes in an effort to not look at him, lest I end up cursing him again. "No choice. That's bloody rich."

"Listen, Ashford…" He said slowly, stepping ahead to decrease the distance between us. He barely even seemed to notice my stiffening form. "You'll have an easier time in the school if you at least tried to be friends with the right people!"

"I'm guessing by right people you mean someone like you!" I shot back, snapping my eyes back to his. I refused to not look at him anymore. Eye-contact was control. It was power. "Vile, self-superior, selfish, _coward_ –,"

"I'd stop there, if I were you." Malfoy threatened slowly, and it struck me then that he had drawn his wand. How did I not notice?

My eyes narrowed. "You _repulse_ me," I said slowly, clearly. "The fact that you had dear little daddy research into my background –,"

"He did that on his own!"

"And then you violated my privacy straight after that proves only one thing to me Malfoy. It proves that you're –,"

"Don't."

"Nothing but a spoilt brat who –,"

"Ashford…"

"Relies on dear daddy to save the day – "

The wand in his hand twisted, and I threw myself out of the way. The curse whipped past me, barely grazing my robes. Ahead of me, Malfoy stared, his eyes stormy like the rain. Then he turned on his heel and walked off.

I licked my lips. It tasted like ash and victory, mingled into vague guilt.

**{X}**

"Arianna…" I froze, almost dropping the sheets in my hand. The sudden silence was suffocating, drawing me in like a well-rehearsed lullaby, and yet, it edged on the fringes of discomfort.

My lips parted. "Hello."

"You've been avoiding us," Yvonne said brusquely, slicing the distance between us through well-spaced steps. There was faint reproach in her voice, making me shut my eyes. "And we don't like it."

"You're being ridiculous," Hazel hummed in comfort, casually pressing one hand to my shoulder. "We're your best mates."

The air around me tightened. "I'm not – how can you…"

"It'll blow away, Ari. Everyone knows you've been a victim of circumstance."

"What matters is what you are," Hazel agreed, entangling her fingers through mine. This time, the papers did fall, surrounding us like a waterfall of white parchment. She lifted my hand, dragging her fingers on the ink stained flesh. "And what you are is a wonderful, brilliant human being who usually doesn't let Malfoy get to her."

I laughed half-heartedly, willfully pulling my hand away. "It's not about him getting to me. Or about my family being what it is." The words had been on the tip of my tongue for so long, waiting to come pouring out. "It's the fact that he took something so private and let it loose just like that. It feels… like someone read a piece of my soul without my permission."

"And now their hands will forever be imprinted on my skin," I concluded, wearily raising my eyes.

Their eyes were a perfect mix of sympathy, empathy and understanding. Yvonne opened her mouth, as if to say something to console me, but when Hazel's elbow nudged her side, she shut up.

I ended up placing my head on their shoulders, staring into space.

"It'll blow over soon," Hazel said at last, patting my arm, "Soon, bigger and stranger things will come to light, and everyone will forget who your father was, Ari."

"He wasn't my father."

"No. I don't think he was either," Yvonne said, her lips widening into a smile. "Come on, then. We've got Duelling Club to attend!" She rose to her feet in a single, fluid movement. "Professor Lockhart will be there! It'll be brilliant!"

That reminded me that bigger and stranger things were coming to Hogwarts.

The burden of my knowledge had never felt so heavy before.

**{X}**

"_Enemies of the Heir, beware…_" Malfoy quoted, a sick sort of smile playing on his mouth. The atmosphere tensed, shattered, blew apart. I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable. "It has a nice poetic ring to it, doesn't it, Goyle? Wonder who's next. Granger's already been attacked."

"Maybe one of Potter's blood-traitor friends. Wonder if the creature can sense the dirt in their blood…" Parkinson offered a malicious smirk. The quill in her hand dipped into the inkpot. "Personally, I'm hoping it'll be those horrid Weasley twins. Remember what they did to Flint last year?"

"Merlin, that was pathetic," Malfoy drawled lightly, resting his hand on the couch. He was sprawled across it, enjoying the stash of chocolates his mother had sent. The aroma sent a craving of the sweet into my own stomach. Maybe a trip to the kitchens was in order. "They really need to be brought down a few pegs."

The conversation drifted past me, making me feel light-headed and worried. It was one thing to rationalize to yourself that no one had gotten hurt in canon… it was another to sit here every day, pretend everything was normal, when it was truly anything but. The warmth of the fire made me lower my head to the armrest of my sofa as I curled in, enjoying the fragments of peace left.

"….maybe attack Ashford," Pansy continued, purposely raising her voice a few decibels. "If it can't detect the stain in the blood, then it probably can sniff the stench of bastard on her skin…"

That's how it had been for so long. Barbed, unveiled comments of my heritage directed at me. Idly, I wondered if changing my name to Arianna Snow was possible. But it might prove dangerous, seeing how Game of Thrones was a far-flung idea of the future.

"…nauseating how they still let her live here," Daphne said, her voice a vague and indistinct buzz in my head. "…Father do something, Draco?"

I could feel the steel-gray eyes regard me carefully, could feel him brush past my golden scarf and bright red mittens. They had been bought to incite, after all. "Father has better things to do with his time," he said at last, his voice dripping with boredom. "What's one Mudblood extra going to do anyway? Merlin knows she's more useless than a first year."

His voice sent me back, somehow, to when I had run across the hallways, stumbling into the infirmary. The sight of Hermione on the bed, frozen, still, had brought a certain kind of clamming in my throat as I stood there, holding the edges of the door for comfort. I was horrified to find that my eyes were hot.

Harry and Ron had entered a few moments later, chattering about something. Their eyes… innocent, naïve, made me blurt out, before I could regret it. _"I'm sorry."_

They exchanged uneasy glances. "Um… what?"

"I'm sorry," I repeated, a little more firmly. My grip on the banister broke away as I slowly started stepping back. "For everything."

Then I'd run away once more, leaving a baffled Boy-Who-Lived and his sidekick. The sidekick, who, at my retreating back, had said, "Merlin, she's mental."

"…might shut down Hogwarts," Zabini concluded forcefully, and my eyes flickered to where he stood. His hair was snow-ridden, and he was holding a heavy cloak in his hands. "Is that what you lot are waiting for?"

His voice was heavy, and, I noted with surprise, angry.

"Zabini, calm the fuck down," Malfoy said slowly, getting on his own feet. "The Board and Father –

"Are doing nothing apart from driving away the most influential wizard of the century!"

"If you're talking about the old fool, then –

"Don't even try to deny it, Malfoy," Zabini hissed, throwing his cloak to the floor furiously, "Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who was scared of, and you and your bloody _father – "_

"Don't you dare talk about my Father like that – "

"What'll you do? Call up Daddy and ask him to – "

"Zabini, I'm warning you – "

They were nose-to-nose now, panting heavily. All face in the Common Room had swiveled to watch them, eyeing them with interest. The fingers of my hand trembled with anticipation, which was rewarded only when Zabini threw the first punch, and Malfoy went staggering back.

And then Malfoy surged forward, and all I could see was black clothed hands, and the occasional flash of green –

"Alright, that's enough, break it up, you two –," Nott swept in between, holding the two down with rationality and some seriously impressive upper body strength. The two struggled slightly, weakened by the blood loss. My eyes critically swept over the faces. Malfoy had a split lower lip and possibly a bruised cheekbone. Zabini, on the other hand, sported a magnificent black eye. They were both spitting hatred.

"Don't you dare – "

"Your father is a ruddy fool – "

"Shut up!" Theodore yelled, and the silence that followed was blissful. "You're both behaving like a pair of idiots. Malfoy, stop being so touchy about your father. You're not a bloody woman. Zabini… shut the fuck up. It wasn't just Malfoy's father who made the decision to oust Dumbledore."

"Sod off, Nott," Malfoy snarled, wrenching his arm away. "I'd like you to stand there and stand someone insulting your dad."

"You're both fools," Daphne said, standing up. "We're Slytherin. We don't fight like a group of Muggles. And we certainly don't fight with one of our own, Zabini," she added, giving Blaise a withering look.

Zabini backtracked, outnumbered. He hastily picked up his cloak from the floor and stormed out, looking pensive. Daphne turned to Malfoy. "Draco, you're injured. Go to the infirmary."

"I can't. Bloody Zabini probably went there too, and if we go in within moments of each other, we'll both get detention."

Pansy stood up immediately. "We can ask Snape for help. He's your godfather, Draco. I'm sure he'll want to –

"Not anymore, he doesn't," Malfoy snapped darkly, his eyes connecting with mine. The implications behind his stare left me reeling. Malfoy's words had such an effect on Snape? Enough to make him stop his favoritism, even for a little while? It was earth-shattering.

"I'll heal you," I offered, before I was even aware of what I was offering.

The silence stretched between us like a smothering blanket.

"What are you talking about, Mudblood?" Pansy screeched into the void, stepping in front of Draco like she was protecting him from my very sight. "We're only in second year! How can you know how to heal?!"

Ah, here came the awkward part. I bit the edges of my lip uncertainly. "I've been learning," I offered slowly… learning to be ready for the upcoming war. "I've always been fascinated by Healing Magic, so I looked at books and taught myself the theory. And, if you want," I added hesitantly, my eyes flickering to the gray that looked at me so suspiciously, "I can try to help."

"Don't be stupid – "

"Alright," Draco acquiesced, tumbling over Pansy's words. He stepped forward. "Alright," he said again, licking his lips. "But I swear to Merlin that if you try anything…"

"I won't," I said just as quickly, standing up. From behind him, I could hear Pansy screaming something incomprehensible, but all I focused on was the feel of the wood against my fingers, the sound of magic thrumming against my veins. I rolled the incantation in my mouth, testing it, as I carefully positioned my wand against Draco's face.

And then I let go.

The soft, white light fascinated me. It rolled past his face, onto his lips and stumbled into the cracks of his skin. I watched, shocked, as the perfect porcelain skin joined together, whole once more. The edges of my wand felt lighter, more freeing somehow.

"I did it," I said breathily, leaning forward to ghost my fingers across his lips. "I actually did it…"

His hand drew up, heavily almost, to rest lightly on my fingers. The gray of his eyes never left my face. "You did."

The… whatever it was, shattered, came apart like a freshly oiled painting when Pansy pushed me back, making me lose my footing and fall. The edges of the sofa clanged uncomfortably with my hipbone and I hissed in pain, drawing in short breaths to look up.

Draco still stood there, touching the edges of his lips as if still astonished by whatever had happened. Pansy stood in front of him, screaming a few choice insults and telling me to keep my hands off as I stuttered to my feet, still holding my wand tightly. I barely even noticed her yelling at my back as I walked out of the Common Room, dazed.

What the hell had just happened?

**{X}**

"Final exams have been cancelled again," Hazel muttered dejectedly, holding up her book to see it better. "I'm actually kind of sad."

"We noticed," Yvonne said with a smirk, lightly tapping the edges of her parchment to make it go blank. I bit back a grin when Hazel gave her a withering look.

"I studied for them the whole year!"

"There, there," I said lightly, patting her back and laughed loudly when she threw the book at me. "Don't get violent with me, for Merlin's sake! It isn't my fault!"

"Yeah, it isn't her fault, Stickney," Yvonne pointed at the castle, "If you really wanna stick it to someone, go to Dumbledore. Or rather," she amended, wrinkling her nose, "Don't. He's kinda old, isn't he?"

"Kinda?" I questioned skeptically, getting up to shield my eyes from the setting sun. "We should go in. The Feast will be starting soon."

Yvonne grabbed my hand, using me to pull herself up. "You're a right ray of sunshine at feasts, aren't you Ashford? Waiting to drown yourself in the food, is it?"

"And you aren't?" I shot back, almost tumbling over when Hazel used me for support too.

"Touché."

"Come on you two, let's go in."

I followed them both, eyeing their backs contemplatively. Another year had ended. Another crisis had been diverted. I wonder… did anyone know how close Harry was to death all these times?

The darkness behind me made me look back.

The sun had set.

I smiled wanly, "A storm is coming."

**{X}**

**A/N: Another year ends. Well, I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed. (Does it seem rushed?) But well, I never intended for Ari to change much for some years anyway. **

**Anyhow, please to leave reviews. I spend a lot of time rereading my own chapters to see if they're perfect. A little reward will be nice.**

**I was confused how to write Draco. He always manages to get away from this mold I'm trying to fit him into. I suppose, it is hard to view him with Harry-colored glasses when you're in the same House as him and see him interacting with other people. I keep remembering that everytime I write him. Hard not to, really.**

**Does the Arianna angst seem too much? She isn't really supposed to be affected by it much. I hope I can convey that properly. I mean, she is... It's just that... Like she keeps saying: They aren't my parents. **


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